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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26503936">Spun Silver</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mellodramatica/pseuds/mellodramatica'>mellodramatica</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Death Note (Anime &amp; Manga)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Hypersensitivity, Other, hypersensitive near, long-haired near, near's long hair</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 13:13:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,302</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26503936</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/mellodramatica/pseuds/mellodramatica</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Near doesn't always have the time to brush his now hip-length hair, so on occasion, he asks Gevanni to do it for him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>non-ship - Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Spun Silver</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is post-Kira, set around the time of the Never Complete oneshot— so 2019/2020.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Gevanni,” came the calm, cool-toned voice. It didn’t really startle the man whom the pseudonym belonged to, but it was always a question of what would follow after Near called your name. He looked up from his papers, coffee in hand, static for the half a second it took him to respond.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Near?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The younger man didn’t look away from his many screens, keen eyes continuing to absorb endless strings of information as he formulated his answer. “My hair is getting tangled again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was clear to Gevanni what this meant. Near had been growing his hair out for years now —perhaps he didn’t care to cut it, perhaps he liked the way it looked, perhaps there was no reason for it at all— but it had only been quite recently that he’d started asking him to comb it through for him while he continued his work. Just him, never anyone else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The agent had been shocked, to say the least, when Near had first asked this of him— but the matter-of-factness of his question, as if it were the most regular request in the world, had quickly snapped him out of his disbelief. If it helped Near waste less time and attention, attention that could be poured into his cases instead, that was only a good thing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Understood,” he therefore responded, downing the last of his coffee and closing his folder before getting up. Stopping by a drawer below one of their many desks, he collected the brush and comb belonging to Near, then somewhat hesitantly made his way towards the center of the floor where the other was sat. Sitting on the floor wasn’t quite his own habit, but caught up in his thoughts as Near was, it didn’t seem as if he would be getting up anytime soon. Quietly so as to not disturb the other’s train of thought, Gevanni took a seat behind him, careful to keep him out of the way of what could be a crude and clumsy knee to the back if he didn’t watch out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Near seemed to perceive the concept of human closeness in a way that vastly differed from the way most people did. Whereas Gevanni —and the rest of the former SPK, for that matter— found the idea of brushing each other’s hair so casually rather unusual, Near didn’t seem to give it a second thought, asking for it with the same ease as if he were asking for a cup of tea. It was only when it came to the actual handwork itself that Gevanni had had a lot to learn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brushing Near’s hair was a world apart from brushing that of, say, a child— Gevanni would know, now having a daughter of his own. Whereas most children were perfectly able to sit through their parents dragging brushes through knots just fine (with a little crying, perhaps, but nothing out of the ordinary), Near was so easily overstimulated that taking care of any sort of knot was a matter of great patience and gentleness. His shiny white hair seemed to be made of the finest silk, his bones of glass, his skin the fragile wings of a thousand butterflies. Any move too far, any touch too much could shut him down instantly, disrupting the progress of whatever case they were working on; it was a mistake Gevanni had made the very first time, and one that he’d never make again. They’d realized immediately why Near had never invited touch before; no handshakes, no hugs, not even when they’d all come out of the Kira case alive. The tangible bubble of peace surrounding him was a strict necessity, and had never once been disrupted— not until now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was only after closely inspecting where any possible tangles could be that Gevanni raised the comb to the ends and the ends to the comb, the SPK founder’s hair more than long enough to reach past his hips. Holding the smallest lock firmly between his index and middle finger, infinitely careful not to pull, he began gliding the comb through, eyes focused on the way the item’s slender teeth separated the silver silk in perfectly equal portions. No knots here yet, luckily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Uncomfortable as the task always seemed at first, it was an immensely easy thing to get lost in, the concentration required for it capable of clearing out the mind in its entirety— a most delightful sensation for one whose thoughts were so often all over the place. He drowned them out in favor of attentiveness, treating Near’s hair with care down to the very strand. When he reached the first tangle, he carefully singled it out, holding the hair above it between two fingers and combing it through oh so carefully, from the bottom up. In front of him, Near blinked, aware but not bothered. Raising one hand, he twirled a lock of the shorter hair by the front of his face around his index finger, enjoying the silky texture of it as he racked his mind for a similarity between the several victims of a recent murder spree in Canada. It was… Nice, in a way, to be tended to by another person. He was grateful for the gentleness with which Gevanni worked; he believed him, with his precise and steady hand, to be the only one fit to do this in an adequate manner. As always, he was right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thoughts remaining mostly on the case, he allowed a portion of his mind to enjoy the other’s care, breath gradually deepening as he found his body relaxing with every timid brush. Up and up Gevanni climbed, rendering every pesky knot back to its usual, glossy state. When he reached the top of Near’s head and switched to the brush to ease his scalp, the younger man allowed himself to fully relax at last, closing his eyes and letting out a very soft sigh. His eyes could use a moment of rest, as could his tirelessly active brain. The wide dots at the ends of the brush’s teeth were soft and forgiving against his scalp, having a wonderfully calming effect.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s nice,” he quietly let Gevanni know. “Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” the agent responded almost automatically, consumed for the most part by his task. “Would you— like me to do that part as well?” He carefully pointed at the lock Near still kept twirled around his fingertip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah— yes, please.” He slowly let it slip off, hand falling back into his lap. The ends were ran through with the comb, the roots caressed by the brush. Amusingly, this particular tress was far shorter than the rest, presumably because it was the one Near always toyed with. The small peculiarity made for the faintest of smiles to pull at Gevanni’s lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the last of the sections he’d had to work through. After one final inspection of the whole, he moved back a little to admire his work in the fine strands of spun silver that shone back at him. Feeling the other’s body heat move away, Near slowly opened his eyes, running a hand through the hair at one side of his head— all the way from root to end without so much as a hint of resistance. Immaculate as ever.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very good, Gevanni,” he said, slightly louder now as he turned to glance at the other. “Please have a break for however long you please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The words momentarily left the brunet wide-eyed— he wasn’t one to take long breaks. However, it was an act of kindness that he could only express his gratitude for. “Thank you,” he said, standing up with the brushes in hand. “I’ll be back soon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmhm,” Near gave a nod, eyes returning to the screens as his attention shifted to the case once more.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading! Please feel free to comment your thoughts, I'd love to hear them!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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